


Teacher Grumps Get an A+

by orphan_account



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: M/M, Teacher Arin, Teacher Dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7450369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The music teacher and the art teacher create some chemistry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teacher Grumps Get an A+

**Author's Note:**

> @grouchycouchy on tumblr for the idea. Whooooooop.

The only thing worse than being a cool teacher in a building full of pointless information and cardboard food, is being forced to wear formal EVERYTHING while being a cool teacher in a building full of pointless information and cardboard food. 

Dress shirts. Dress pants. Even dress socks. And the only reason Dan doesn't have to shove his feet into a pair of dress shoes, is because he had an hour long debate with the principal about his back problems that only his old, white-actually-turned-gray-because-of-years-of-wear sneakers could fix. Otherwise, those unsightly things wouldn't be allowed past the threshold of the building.

So it's a normal morning for Dan as his alarm wakes him up at four a.m.

Here is a play by play of a normal weekday morning for Mr. Avidan:

First, he wakes up to the most annoying alarm in the world, which makes his first thought of his waking moments something along the lines of, 'i want to punch someone in the face.'

Second, he half blindly fumbles around on his beside table for his glasses. He slides them on and shuffles to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a shower. Sometimes though, when Danny doesn't feel like standing for ten minutes calculating the right amount of hot and cold so he wouldn't burn alive or freeze to death, he just rubs some deodorant on his pits and continues on. Today happens to be one of those mornings.

Twenty minutes, one cup of coffee, and a couple scrolls through Twitter later, he heads to his closet to get dressed. 

Dan peruses over his choices of dress shirts to wear that day. He has a little bit of every color hanging in his closet. Red and yellow and green and even brown. His most favored shirts, however, are of the pink and blue variety. Blue because blue is his favorite color. And pink because...that's..someone else's favorite color.

This particular Monday though, Dan chooses a pale blue dress shirt. He yanks a pair of black dress pants off the rack and heads to the bathroom once again to change. Even though he lives alone, he feels weird changing anywhere else but the bathroom. So to the bathroom he goes.

Looking at his mop of a hairdo in the mirror, Dan pulls his pajama shirt over his head. Dan is a skinny guy, kinda scrawny. But he used to be even smaller than he is now. And he's fine with the way he looks now anyway, so whatever. 

"One. Two.. Three." Three. Three ribs he can see under his skin. Sweet, so he gained a little weight these past few weeks. 

Dan removes his pants too and puts his teacher garb on, tucking the blue shirt into the waist of his pants. He takes extra care to get rid of that awful ducktail that forms when the cloth sticks out of his back side of his jeans all weirdly. 

Now the hair.

In reality, there isn't much he can do about his hair. Dan's tried to use gel, hair spray, and every product under the sun to keep his fro down. But to no avail. After a few days without washing it, the grease his scalp accumulates helps keep his hair down, but he doesn't like to have a stinky pile of spaghetti noodles flopping around on his head. 

So Dan usually doesn't really do anything about his hair. 

Grabbing his satchel full of music note tests and a bunch of other stuff he has yet to grade for his music class, Dan heads out the door and drives to the school.  
***  
Everything is quiet inside the school when Dan enters it at five thirty in the morning. Why the hell is Dan at school at five thirty a.m. when the doors don't even open for students until six? Well, stay patient, mein child, you're about to find out.

Mr. Avidan heads down the main hallway without much of a thought. His feet know where they're going, he doesn't have to think about it. So while he walks, he instead notices (not for the first time) just how...small the halls are now compared to how he remembered them. It may be his tallness now, or his nostalgia getting the best of him, but when he came to this school fifteen years ago, the halls seemed so..big. So intimidating. They seemed to surround him when he was a little teenager. As if to say "You are trapped here". That's angsty teen Dan for you. 

But now, Dan stood tall against the halls that teased him all those years back. He told them that he was THEIR boss. Man. What time can do.

Alright Dan, stop talking to walls. You've made it to your classroom.

The music room, usually filled to the brim with a cacophony of singers and instruments, is eerily quiet in the dark of the morning. Dan sets his satchel on his desk, not quite ready to start his work yet. He exits the music room and heads into the art room.

One knock. That's all it takes. One gentle, barely audible knock is all Arin needs as a cue to answer the door. "Hey," he whispers. 

Arin's in his teacher outfit too. A red dress shirt with the same boring black dress pants. And since Arin has a perfect, non-problematic back, he's stuck in dress shoes too. His brown eyes are still cloudy with sleep, and yet a grin breaks across his tired face as soon as he sees Dan. 

And, just because Dan loves it, his hair is in a ponytail today, blonde streak showing like a paintbrush stroke against the side of his head.

"Hello, Mr. Hanson." Arin opens the door enough for Dan to slide in the art room, closing it when he's in all the way. 

Even though they are literally the only two PEOPLE, let alone teachers in the school right now, they're still afraid to speak loudly. Because you never ever know. Someone, anyone, could just walk in and see. 

See what?

"I had a dream about you last night," Dan says, striding over to the jars that hold all the paintbrushes. The stained, overused, crappy paintbrushes that Arin absolutely loves. Dan picks one out of the cluster, messing with the bristles. 

"Did you?" Arin asks, leaning against the door and crossing his arms. 

"Yep. Yes I did." A warm smile spreads across Dan's face. "I had a dream that you painted me."

"I do that in real life dude," Arin blurts out. Dan gives Arin a look. Arin sticks out his tongue. "Oh because that's something new right?"

"No." Dan suppresses a giggle. "I mean like, you actually PAINTED me. I was, like, pinned down and you poured a bunch of paint on me and used your hands to make weird patterns on me. It was a weird dream."

Arin takes a step towards Dan. "My hands were all over you?"

Dan tosses the paint brush back into the jar. He misses, and it goes into the sink. "They were. Your hands were all up in my steeze."

And then Arin's sick of the back and forth banter, and so is Dan, so they just meet in the middle. They kinda slam in the middle actually, an accidental chest bump. Dan goes "hoof!"

But it's fine, because Arin takes the moment to turn Dan around and pin him up against the door. Not PIN him pin him, but it's implied. 

"How 'all over' did my hands go Danny?" Arin asks. His voice is low, raspy. The voice he saves for Dan and no one else. 

"Not sure. Because your lips were also all over me too."

Too. Fucking. Easy. 

Arin closes the distance between them and they are suddenly kissing in the art room. Arin's hands run up and down Dan's arms first. They massage his hands because he knows he's good at this and so does Dan.

Dan tries real hard not to moan while Arin rubs his hands. He doesn't wanna break the kiss but godDAMN that massage feels good. He can't help it. He lets a few long sighs out and smiles.

"I'm going to murder you," Dan says. "If you keep doing that."

Then they're back to kissing and Arin stops massaging Dan's fingers. His hands run up and down Dan's chest and they go up and around his neck. They wander up into his hair and accidentally pull a little bit but Dan doesn't care. 

Dan's hands fidget too. They slide down the full length of Arin's torso and they linger around his butt for just a second. Only a second. 

They toy with Arin's pants button but he doesn't continue with that because they can't do that here. They only have the one outfit. 

"You," Arin whispers in between kisses. "Are so," a kiss on the jaw. "Fucking," a kiss on the neck. "Beautiful." A kiss on the lips. "I love you."

"I love you too," Dan says. Arin's hands rest on the middle of his chest, and vice versa. 

"I can feel your heartbeat." Arin smiles at the rabbit-paced beat he feels under Dan's skin. Adrenaline. Nothing but.

"Same here," Dan replies, feeling the same quick beating of Arin's heart. He can feel Arin's life under his fingertips.

"Is dream me better than real me at being all up in your steeze?" Arin asks, pulling away from Dan. He smooths the wrinkles out of his shirt and tucks it back in his pants where it has come out. Dan does the same, having to fix that duck tail again.

"Nah, you're definitely better." Dan ruffles his own moppy hair just to feel satisfied, and adjusts his glasses. 

"Okay, sweet." Arin walks past Dan, booping him on the nose before sitting at his desk. "Have a good day Daniel Avidaniel."

Dan touches his nose as if he could catch the ghost of Arin's fingertip. "You too, Arin Handsome."

And that's it. Dan walks across the hall to his room and grades the tests he was supposed to grade over the weekend. Arin sets up the assignment for today. And it's like nothing happened at all for those ten minutes they just happened to be in the same room together. 

Ten minutes. That's all they give each other. Because even though they get there early, and even though they're quiet, and even though they are really careful, anyone could still come in and see.

See what?

Well, you just found out.  
***


End file.
